It was exceptional.
It was one of a kind.
The caption of the post was simple, as they often were. Lightm4st3r never wrote any real descriptions of whatever he’d made (unless it was the name of a finished piece), but he usually spoke in song lyrics or quotes from poems or literature relevant to whatever idea he was trying to execute. It always sent the internet into a frenzy of speculation.
This one was especially short.
The Wound Is the Place Where the Light Enters You
It was a Rumi quote. Audrey read it over and over again, wondering what on earth it could mean. But then she froze in her tracks.
His hands—
They wereveryfamiliar.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears and her breathing quickened. She threw herself back against the wall of the nearest building and frantically zoomed in on the photo, ripping one of her gloves off with her teeth so she could pinch at her screen more precisely, andthere: there were all the odd constellations of tiny, raised starburst scars she knew so well, scattered across the backs of those hands.
She knew them so well because she saw them every day now.
Every day, those hands cupped her cheeks when Theo kissed her goodbye. Every day, those hands swallowed up her own while their fingers interlaced on the way to the subway. Every day, the right one shook while it tried desperately to hold onto a coffee mug without spilling it everywhere, just once, just for a moment.
Those hands had sketched her.
They’d cooked for her.
Made her coffee.
Tangled in her hair while they danced.
Gently swept tears away from her cheeks.
Held her while she broke.
Audrey’s phone slipped from her fingers. It clattered to the ground, cracking the protective case around its edges.
Theo had tried to tell her, but she hadn’t believed him. Not even in the slightest.
Theo Sullivan was Lightm4st3r, the famous, reclusive, avant-garde neon artist.
And now she knew it.
Twelve
Audrey pressed Theo’sbuzzer and knocked on the door again. She’d texted she was coming over as soon as she’d seen that Instagram post, and though she didn’t say why, Theo’s reply was enough to confirm that he probably knew.
Because all he’d said was:
Okay.
But the longer he took, the more she began to worry, and Audrey was just about to buzz again when Theo finally yanked open the inner door. He unlocked the security door and quickly ushered her inside.
Either he’d been working or working out, because his hair and black T-shirt were both drenched in sweat. But his face was paler than it usually was as he helped her out of her coat.
Audrey didn’t say anything. She simply showed him Lightm4st3r’s post and grabbed one of his hands to hold up next to her phone for comparison. They were identical.
Theo paled even further, but he nodded. “I know. I posted that for you.” His voice shook. He obviously wasn’t going to deny it. “I didn’t know how else to tell you, and I wondered if you might—”
“Recognize your hands? Yeah. I did.”
